


A Different Hand

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the ogres were approaching, Sir Maurice made a deal. His daughter only found about it afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Hand

War raged in the provinces. Villages were cut down like wheat. Blood tainted the rivers and sullied the soil. Men and women and children were all dying, slaughtered like animals as the ogres tore across the land. 

Aid was called for, and when it came, a terrible price was exacted.

No one realised at first, for the Baron had insisted on speaking to their saviour alone, to be sure that their deal was made privately. It was only when the fires burned out and the blood was washed away by the storms and the ogres were gone that the doors to the high chamber were broken down.

All that remained of the Baron was a letter, hastily-scrawled in a trembling hand, offering an apology to his daughter and only Heir. Sir Maurice of the Frontlands had given himself as payment for the salvation of his lands. 

His daughter was given the letter as soon as she entered the chamber. She looked at it, as his request that she fulfil the betrothal, marry Gaston and ensure their lands were well led. He had not remained long enough to hear that her intended had fallen in battle.

The Lady was quiet, and she was thoughtful, but very few made the mistake of thinking she was foolish. None approached her regarding the letter, only watching as she read it, then went to the shattered windows and looked out at the land that had been decimated. 

“My father has saved us,” she said, crumpling the letter in her hand. “Now, I believe it is my place to seek him.”

“My lady!”

She turned, blue fire in her eyes. “He is my father,” she said. “The ogres are gone because of him, and he is gone because of them. If he is dead, I will know of it. If he is not, then I will see him.” She gestured to one of the younger soldiers. “Fetch my horse from the stables. I shall be at the front gates presently.”

“My lady, please,” Garrett said. He was her father’s Steward and had been a second father to her. “Will you take men with you? It will not be safe…”

She looked at him, as if graven from stone. “The Frontlands are in your protection,” she said. “You will need every man you can to ensure that there is shelter and food enough for the winter. We can only afford one to rescue my father, and I can ride as well as any man.”

“You cannot make him break a deal with Rumpelstiltskin,” Garrett protested.

She smiled at him, her father’s steel encased in a tiny, feminine form. “I don’t intend to break any deals,” she said, then walked briskly past him towards the door. No other dared to try and stop her, though any one of them could have held her one-armed.

They watched her as she departed through the gate, mounted on a horse that seemed too large for her, burdened only with winter clothing and the provisions to feed herself on the long journey to the northern mountains, where it was rumoured that Rumpelstiltskin had his castle. 

For a lady such as she, it was a hard journey. 

All the same, she could and would have asked no other to do it.

She rode until her legs ached, until her body cried out in protest. She slept in inns when she could, and under the shelter of trees when she could not. Her food gradually dwindled as the days turned to weeks and so too did her coin, but she was within sight of the castle, dim lights blazing in the distant windows.

Her lips cracked and bleeding from the cold, she smiled.

Philippe, her poor, weary horse, bore her to the gates and she led him through into grounds that were wild and overrun. Strange plants and thorny bushes tangled around the path on all sides, and she pressed forward, too weary to be afraid or awed.

The doors of the castle were vast, but even as she laid her hand against the massive handles, they swung inward, as if by magic.

Belle stepped into the darkness that was sliced apart by moonlight. The hall was round and bare, but for a table in the middle, which was laden with a bowl of roses. She approached, gazing at the blooms, which could only have been grown by magic, in such cold weather.

“Like what you see, dearie?” The voice came from all sides, mocking and amused.

Belle lifted her head and looked around. “I’m looking for my father.”

“In my halls?” The owner of the voice feigned shock. “Do I seem like a hospitable host?”

“Not in the least,” she replied quietly. “But you took him none the less.”

“Ah!” A figure seemed to merge out of the shadows in front of her, reptilian and smiling unpleasantly, long-fingered hands steepled before his chest. He wore scaled and leathery clothing that looked like a parody of the clothing of a gentleman. “Dear Maurice’s little angel. Oh yes. I’ve heard many a tale about you.”

She looked at him, expressionless, forcing herself to calm. “Liar.”

He clapped a hand to his chest, widening his eyes. “Liar?” he echoed. “Me? Tsk tsk, dearie. It’s very rude to come into a man’s home and call him a liar.”

“It’s just as rude to come into a man’s home and buy him,” she countered. Her hands were balled in tight, cold little fists by her sides. She tried not to move as he started to circle her, though she could feel his eyes boring into her. 

“I didn’t take anything that was not offered,” Rumpelstiltskin murmured, suddenly at her back. “Your father was quite desperate, dearie.” His hands wrapped around her upper arms through the cloak and she was pulled hard against him. “He wanted you safe, and yet, here you are. In the monster’s den.”

Belle took a long, slow breath. “I’m here to see my father. You made a deal that I would be safe.” She tilted her head enough to look over her shoulder at him, fighting down the fear that was knotting her insides. “Am I safe?”

He bared his teeth and loosened his fingers. “You are, dearie,” he said, “for now.” He circled around in front of her again. He studied her closely. It felt akin to being disrobed in front of a stranger. “What would you pay to see him?”

“That depends on the condition I find him in,” Belle replied, her lips sticky with her own blood. She took a shaky step towards him. “Please, let me see him.”

The imp raised a hand, snapped his fingers, and all at once, they were in a grand kitchen, a fire blazing in the hearth. Belle shivered at the sudden warmth, looking around, and cried out at the sight of her father. He was slumped on the floor and looked haggard and exhausted, a beard thick upon his chin. His hands were dry and reddened, and from the look of him, he had fallen asleep while scrubbing the floor.

Belle fell to her knees beside him, dragging her father into her arms. He barely stirred. “What have you done to him?”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged eloquently. “Reminded him of how hard the people below him must work,” he said, bitterness coating every word. “It is one thing to stand atop a tower and shout orders all day, but another entirely to obey them. That was the price he was offered.”

“In a castle as large as this one? Who else helps him?”

Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth. “You presume a great deal, little girl.”

“As do you, of a man who is old and sick,” she retorted, fury kindled by anxiety. She looked down at her father’s face as his heavy lids fluttered open. “Papa?” Her hand trembled against his bearded cheek. “Papa, can you hear me?”

“Belle?”

She smiled, her eyes brightening with tears. “It’s me, papa. It’s me.”

Her father struggled to sit up. “No, Belle,” he said hoarsely. “No, you cannot be here.”

“And yet,” Rumpelstiltskin said dryly, “here she is. And my price is not yet paid.”

Belle stared at him, then rose, releasing her father. “I have a new deal for you,” she said.

“Is that so, dearie?”

“Yes.”

“Belle! No!”

She ignored her father, meeting Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes. “Take me in his place.”

The imp’s smug expression faltered for a moment, and his folded arms fell loose by his sides. “You would take his place?”

“You have my word.”

Her father pawed at her leg, too weak to even rise. “Belle, no, I won’t let you.”

Rumpelstiltskin snapped a finger, and it seemed all sound around them was closed out, as he gazed at her, his brow furrowing with curiosity. “It’s not just a little game, dearie,” he said, “It’s forever.”

“Are you trying to stop me?” she said quietly.

“No,” he replied, watching her, still frowning. “No, indeed. Forever?”

She didn’t even glance down at her father. “You have my word, then. I will take my father’s place, forever.”

Sound crashed in on them from all sides, and she turned to her father. 

“Belle,” he moaned, clinging to her. “Belle, you can’t. I’m old. I’ve lived my life. Go home.”

“It’s too late, papa,” she said, stroking his cheek.

“She’s right, you know,” Rumpelstiltskin said, giggling. “The deal is struck. He will be safe at home in your place in moments.”

She looked at him, startled, then back at her father, who was fading from her sight. “Papa!”

His lips parted, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying before he vanished. 

Belle stared at her empty arms, then turned on her new master. “You didn’t let me say goodbye!” she cried out, unwanted tears spilling down her face. “I’m never going to see him again and you didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s mobile features were strangely expressionless. “Goodbye is a luxury for the fortunate,” he said abruptly. “Get up. I’ll show you to your room.”

She followed, the rigors of her journey making her stumble, and the shock of losing her father when she had barely even found him forcing fresh tears from her eyes. She barely noticed the room she had been pushed into until she heard his giggle.

Only then did she see the bare black walls and straw on the floor.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, whirling around.

Rumpelstiltskin just slammed the door.


End file.
